


is anyone listening?

by mildkat



Series: escapril 2020 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildkat/pseuds/mildkat
Summary: “Hello?”“Akaashi.” Bokuto suppressed a gasp. It’s a dick move to wake someone up and expect them to talk you through a panic attack.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: escapril 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685971
Comments: 3
Kudos: 158





	is anyone listening?

**Author's Note:**

> happy day 3 of escapril! the prompt is the title, as always. 
> 
> cw for a very light discussion of anxieties and panic attacks
> 
> enjoy!

Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do things halfway. It’s like he gets energy from the ground up, jolting through his legs, up his torso, and up his brain. He gets buzzed from the air around him. He gets high off working with other people. Sometimes, he just _feels_ the energy of life, swirling around him like he’s Buddha himself. 

Volleyball is an obvious outlet, but it’s jacked up from his team. He’s spoiled rotten by the support he gets, and no one’s more aware of this than him. He’s his full self with Fukurodani boy’s volleyball club—down to every gross, embarrassing detail. And that’s all it takes. When he’s on, he’s on. 

He doesn’t do things halfway. Unfortunately, this works both ways. 

-

Sunday is the worst day of the week. He’s an old battery, rusted and drained. The house is empty, leaving his insides grasping at empty space. He wakes up at dawn, like he has since he started playing volleyball, but instead of morning practice, he spends it alone. 

His fingers twitch towards his phone. 

He shouldn’t. 

But he wants to. 

But he shouldn’t. 

He flops back down on the bed. It’s 5:48am and he’s already exhausted himself. He listens to the clock tick, his heart beat thrum. His skin starts to itch all over, but he leaves his phone alone. Akaashi would still be sleeping anyway. 

He stares at his wall long enough that he doesn’t recognize the pictures crowding every surface. He starts to hate the medals hanging on a hook. He tries to breathe, picturing that diagram from the school counsellor’s poster. He’s probably doing it wrong, because when he picks up his phone, he’s pretty sure he’s hyperventilating. 

It takes three rings. “Hello?” 

“Akaashi.” Bokuto suppressed a gasp. It’s a dick move to wake someone up and expect them to talk you through a panic attack. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Uh.” 

“Even on the phone, you fail at speaking like a human.” 

That makes him laugh. “I guess I’m still learning.” 

“Give me a number.” 

“Eight.” Bokuto flinches. “I can call back later, I know I woke you—” 

“Don’t.” On the line, he can hear rustling. He pictures Akaashi sitting up and pushing the covers away. He sleeps with a billion sheets. “Don’t hang up, not at least you’re at a five.”

Bokuto had started expressing dark swings like this from the counsellor’s suggestion. He only uses it with Akaashi and it works well. If only her posters worked, too. That reminds him. “Sakomoto-sensei’s poster is wrong. We should, like, report it to the government.” 

“Poster for what?”

“Breathing.” 

“Hmm, I’ve tried that one, and I like it. I think you’re doing it wrong.”

“No, I’m not!” 

“Yes, you are. Here.” More rustling. “I’ll talk you through it. You inhale for five seconds,”

“Okay.”

“Bokuto-san, if you’re talking, you’re still doing it wrong.” Somehow, Bokuto can hear him shaking his head. To illustrate his cooperation, he doesn’t answer. “Good. Okay, so inhale for five seconds, and you exhale like you’re blowing on a candle without letting the flame go out. I’m gonna count, okay? One, two, three...” 

They do this for a long time. When Bokuto realizes his arm has fallen asleep, his chest feels free. “Hey, I think we’ve come down to a four.” 

“That’s good.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“You only apologize to me in the wrong times. I can’t get you to say sorry after you make me try stupid sets, so save those, okay?”

“Okay. Oh, while I have you, I read the craziest article last night...” They talk for a long time. Bokuto shares his article, Akaashi tells him his plans for the day. When they finally hang up, Bokuto feels calm, but still drained. 

Sundays are the worst. If he can still feel the energy of the earth, it just happens to die once every seven days. 

-

Mondays are his favourite. The streets at dawn are alive. Joggers and businessmen decorate the pale darkness, and he starts to feel normal again with each step towards school. When he reaches the club room and sees Akaashi fumbling with the key, his stomach does a backflip—probably because of the cold. 

“Akaashi!” 

“Oh, good morning, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi pushes the door open and steps to the side. He gestures Bokuto in. 

“You don’t have to treat me like the principal all the time you know. Just in front of the team.” Bokuto winks. He feels good. He feels normal. 

Akaashi rolls his eyes and shoves his bag into a locker. 

“How was your Sunday?” Things feel so normal with Akaashi that he sometimes can’t help but poke at his iron-clad friend. 

“It was okay. Some crazy man called and bothered me, but other than that, it was pretty standard.” 

“Sounds like an asshole.” He answers without a beat. His stomach flips again. When Bokuto looks at him, Akaashi’s body is facing away. He’s putting on his shoes while Bokuto hasn’t even put down his bag. “Akaashi.” 

“Hm?” 

“Thank you.” He rubs his neck. “For picking up.” 

Akaashi stands up. When he turns around, he’s smiling. “Thank you for calling.”

**Author's Note:**

> i've been wanting to write these two dummies forever. hope i did them justice :)
> 
> thanks so much for reading! as always, comments/kudos/feedback would be a dream x


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